


If I don’t have you, you know I’d go crazy without you

by bettiqua, SykehaoL



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood, Fucked Up, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, i can't believe that's an established tag, keith is delusional, lance is scared, yandere keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:01:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8335435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettiqua/pseuds/bettiqua, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SykehaoL/pseuds/SykehaoL
Summary: "I have a plan to get us out of here." Lance didn't like the face Keith was pulling. His eyes were sparkling with his determination, and he had a very dangerous looking smirk.
"Yeah, I've heard that before, pal, and it just ended up with me getting a giant headache."
"I mean it this time. It’s foolproof." The certainty in his voice sparked a little bit of unwanted hope in Lance's chest.
"Oh yeah? What have you got then, big shot?"
"I'm going to kill someone."





	

**Author's Note:**

> be the yandere content you want to see in the world ☆ミ

Lance has seen Keith get ruthlessly violent before: out of a fierce protectiveness for his new family, a hatred of the Galra, or just a particularly bad mood. It wasn't exactly common, but it was known to happen, and Lance was usually the one to witness it firsthand. It was hard to associate that Keith with the Keith that still couldn't finish the Voltron cheer and laughed at the stupidest jokes instead of Lance’s perfect zingers. Every time it happened, Lance would stow the memory away in the back of his mind inside a locked box reading DO NOT OPEN in huge text (inside of which would sit the heavy weight of being thrust into an inter-universal war/suicide mission and the fact that "You're the _worst_ " was the last thing he ever said to his older sister before he left). Lance noticed that it was difficult to pull Keith out of these—he’d decided to call them episodes. Yelling at him never worked, and trying to physically restrain him only ever left him with a bruised ego and the air knocked out of his lungs. But once, when Lance had been injured and Keith had gone berserk again, he snapped out of it when Lance couldn't hold back his moans of pain. At least Keith cared more about his teammates than defeating the enemy, Lance had thought.

He had plenty of time to think about all of this now in the Galran prison he found himself and Keith in, as well as another front row seat to his brutality. An alien could bump into Lance, jostling his broken elbow from a failed escape attempt, and find itself shoved against a dirty wall with a growl of, "Watch where you're going," with an unspoken, " _or_ _else_ ," from Keith.

In fact, any time Keith believed Lance was threatened, it was like a switch was flipped and he became impossible to reason with, unless Lance pulled his attention away with his own helplessness. (Lance almost wanted to laugh, hysterically, at the thought that Keith was like a lion, protecting his pride.) Under any other circumstance, Lance would be loathe to show any weakness; but as time went on, it quickly became the only reliable way to reign Keith in, to keep him from drawing too much attention and landing them in an even worse situation. They were lucky enough to not have been recognized by the Galra soldiers yet, but their situation was tenuous at best.

 

* * *

 

There was a mostly humanoid alien who’d introduced herself to Lance during one of the rare occasions Keith wasn’t glued to his side. Her skin was bright blue to match her eyes, and her arms seemed almost boneless. When she introduced herself and Lance couldn’t pronounce her mouthful of a name, she just laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “You can just call me Daila.” Her skin was moist.

“I noticed there is something wrong with your, ah,” she gestured to his elbow, “and I thought I could do something to help. I’m not familiar with your species, but it hurts to see someone in pain, so I would like to try, if you’re willing.”

“Help?” Lance raised an eyebrow. There wasn’t exactly a medical station in this prison, and it was doubtful she could have smuggled any kind of supplies with her. “How?”

Daila giggled. “I suppose you haven’t heard of my compatriots and I. Allow me to show you.” She gently cradled Lance’s elbow in her hands. He gasped at the jolt of movement, but let her continue. Her fingers began to slowly massage the joint, and it slowly began to warm up. The pain started to fade away, but the heat suddenly jumped to unbearable and he let out a squeaky yelp.

“Oh, my apologies—!”

“It’s fine—”

“Lance!” Keith’s voice sounded from down the hallway. Lance looked over to him, realizing how the scene must look to Keith; a stranger holding Lance’s broken elbow, then him yelling... _Oh no_.

Keith looked furious storming his way through the short hall. Lance couldn’t stop Keith from ripping the alien’s hands away from him, and he let out another cry of pain when his elbow was jerked so suddenly. Whatever she had done for his elbow faded almost instantly. Daila’s arms were twisted bruisingly behind her back by Keith and he was hissing in (what seemed to be) her ear.

“Don’t _ever_ touch him again.”

“Keith! Get away from her!” Lance tried to pull him away from the alien, but he didn’t even flinch. “She didn’t do anything wrong!”

Keith glared back at him and replied, “She was hurting you!”

“She was trying to _heal_ me!”

Keith’s grip tightened before he scoffed and let Daila go. She ran away immediately, gasping and crying. “She could have been lying. She could’ve made it worse.”

“That doesn’t matter! It was uncalled for! You have to stop attacking people, man, no one here is out to get us, so calm the heck down!”

Keith growled and took a step towards Lance, who backed away from him on instinct. Keith paused for only the briefest of moments before stalking towards him with purpose until Lance was cornered. He slammed his hand on the wall over Lance’s shoulder. Keith may have been a couple inches shorter than him, but Lance felt like he was cowering beneath him.

“The only person here you can trust is me, Lance. Why can’t you see that?”

Lance swallowed dryly before mustering up the courage to reply, “Why can’t _you_ see that, unlike you, some people here just want to _help_?” He shoved Keith away, clenching his teeth to keep down a pained sound when it put too much pressure on his sore elbow. For a second, as Keith stared at him in shock, Lance was afraid he would attack him. But Keith just glared at the floor sulkily, like a scolded kid.

“I just want to keep you safe.”

“I’m not a baby, I can take care of myself.” With that, Lance left. As he walked away, he could feel Keith’s eyes on him. He knew Keith was never very far behind, but he’d at least been considerate enough to keep some distance between them. But Lance still thought he could feel Keith’s breathing on the back of his neck.

 

Ever since then, Keith grew more irritable than ever. He would scowl at other prisoners when they came close to the two of them during meal times, and even instigated fights with the more aggressive ones. Lance tried to keep him back, but it ended up being guards or other prisoners who broke them up. Lance wouldn't talk to Keith after those fights. If Keith registered it as the punishment it was, he didn't make it known. He just stood closer to Lance than usual. At some point, Keith’s protectiveness had warped into possessiveness. Lance didn’t know how he felt about that.

 

One night, he'd woken up, bleary, and saw Keith pacing around him glowering at something, or someone, outside the door. He would frequently look over at Lance with a very intent stare that Lance still couldn’t truly decipher. At some point, after having sat down a minute before, he started crawling over to Lance. He had to shut his eyes before Keith got close enough to realize he was awake. Keith didn't touch him, but he felt very close, and at some point bracketed his arms around Lance's head. Eventually Lance fell asleep, albeit anxiously, and had woken sometime later to Keith sleeping on the other side of the room.

He wondered for a while if he had dreamed it, but the same thing happened again some nights later. He held Lance close and stroked his hair that time, murmuring wordlessly into his hairline. Lance hoped he couldn’t feel how hard his heart was beating.

 

* * *

 

“Milmax?” Lance squinted at the makeshift scribble of a name-tag of a large alien that looked amazingly like a mushroom mixed with a teddy bear. It looked like they’d written it down themself, just so fellow prisoners would know who they were.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” they chuckled. Their voice was deep but soft, and they’d somehow maintained their humor despite apparently being a prisoner longer than Lance and Keith had. They reminded Lance of Hunk, and every laugh out of Milmax’s mouth plucked another heart string.

“So what happened? Why were you fighting?” Milmax turned their attention to Keith. Keith didn’t answer at first, just giving them a sullen look until Lance slapped his arm with a muttered, “ _come on_.”

“He threatened us.”

They hadn’t met many hostile aliens on board during their time on the ship. In fact, before that day, it’d only been one. And even then, it was only due to Keith’s off putting personality. But this one seemed to have it out for them. He approached them with a nasty smirk and said he knew who they were, Paladins of Voltron, and asked what they were willing to give in exchange for him not ratting them out to the guards.

Keith had offered a punch to the gut, followed by a knee to his crocodilian snout. Then the fight had begun, and Lance, for the first time, stayed back and let Keith do as he wished. He almost seemed to fight better this way, not having to worry about Lance stopping him. Lance could see him smiling confidently, throwing him looks every now and then, as if to make sure Lance was still watching.

He was winning, dull yellowish blood on his knuckles, by the time Milmax got in between them, throwing their dough-like hands around the wrists of both fighters. They’d given the both of them a frigid glare, and said, “This doesn’t have to get too out of hand, boys. Let it go.”

The other alien had grunted, ripped his arm out of Milmax’s, and left. Keith had just stared back at Milmax until they had let him go.

At the end of the story, Milmax said, “I’m sorry about that,” rubbing the top of their head nervously, “I promise most of us here aren’t that bad.”

Lance laughed, “I know.”

“So...Paladins of Voltron, huh? What’s that mean?”

With a grin, he began a flourished (though hushed) tale of Voltron, about their beginning, their rises and falls, their comebacks. It had been too long since he’d done this. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt more like himself as he talked to Milmax. During a brief comfortable lapse in the conversation, he noticed Keith staring at him with that unnamable stare in the corner of his eye. When he wasn’t staring at Lance, he was glaring at Milmax. Lance slapped him on the wrist every time he noticed, and Keith’s attention would be brought to Lance again. He wasn’t going to let Keith chase away another one of the few friendly faces they’d met, even if it meant he had to keep Keith's already obsessive attention on him. Lance couldn’t stay sane if Keith was the only one who he could talk to.

 

When lights out came around, Lance was reluctant to leave his new friend. Talking with Milmax almost made him forget his troubles (forget the fact that Keith was acting more like a guard dog than a person—let alone a _teammate_ —since they got here), and now being alone with Keith felt more daunting than usual.

Milmax ruffled Lance’s hair in goodbye, but just gave Keith a small smile. When the two of them headed towards their cell, Keith stayed close enough that the thin fabric of their clothes were brushing with each step.

When the door shut and locked behind them, Keith turned to Lance, not leaving his personal space. Though Lance hadn’t expected anything else; Keith acted as if he belonged in it.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah?” Lance walked across the room to lean against the wall in his spot in the corner. It wasn’t any more comfortable than anywhere else, but it was his. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You looked scared when that lizard alien tried to blackmail us.”

Lance scoffed. “I wasn’t scared. Who do you take me for? ‘Sides, he wasn’t so tough.”

Keith huffed a laugh but otherwise said nothing as he moved to sit next to Lance. After getting comfortable only a few inches away, he murmured, with a small smirk, “He was nothing really.” Lance chuckled. Keith seemed pleased at that. He went on, starting off confidently, “I would’ve beaten him—” but then his voice lowered, irritated, “—if _they_ hadn’t shown up.”

“Milmax?” Keith nodded. Lance sighed, “They aren’t bad. They’re just friendly.”

Keith glared at Lance. “You don’t know that for sure. They could be trying to make us lower our guard.”

“Why are you so paranoid?”

“Why are you so stupid?”

Lance opened his mouth to argue, but shut it and looked away from Keith. Keith, surprised, stared at Lance, waiting for some kind of reply. Lance didn’t give him one until a couple minutes later.

“You have to stop doing this, Keith.” When Keith only looked at him with an eyebrow raised in confusion, he went on, “Stop threatening people, stop fighting them. We’re Defenders of the Universe. _Defenders_.”

“I’m just trying to protect us. If we trust one wrong person, we’re goners, and the others can’t form Voltron. I can’t take that risk, and neither should you. Stay away from Milmax, Lance. I mean it.”

After a few tense moments, Keith scooted a little closer until their thighs were touching. Lance was tempted to push him away, but he knew Keith would just move in close again.

“Besides...I’m here. You can depend on me.” He shifted even closer. Lance felt trapped against the corner. “You don’t need anyone else.”

He was wrong, but Lance wasn’t going to argue. He got the feeling Keith was on a knife’s edge, and pushing him the wrong way could be fatal.

 

* * *

 

Lance continued to see Milmax, but only when Keith was separated from him. Milmax always welcomed him and made him feel safe, made him feel more like he used to. He was worried he’d lose himself to this prison and the person Keith had become. He could forget how much more unstable Keith was getting by the day when he was with them.

Sometimes Lance would come back to the cell, and Keith would be waiting for him there. He would ask where Lance had been and he would tell him he’d gone to the bathroom (for hours?) or went for a snack (a fruitless effort since they only got food once a day) or that he’d gotten lost (barely possible since the area prisoners could wander was as big as the training room back on the Castle). He didn’t think Keith ever bought it, but he’d always accept the excuses anyway, though bitterly. He’d be rougher in his handling of Lance those nights.

 

* * *

 

Lance was not in a good condition. His elbow was untreated, he had constant headaches and dizzy spells (concussion? likely), and he wasn’t getting enough sleep. Keith tried to help him sleep better at night, hoping holding him would make him feel more comfortable in this cold, desolate place. But it didn’t seem to do the trick. Keith needed to take Lance out of here, back to the Castle where he would be safe and where Keith could keep a close eye on him, distraction-free.

There were always, always others who tried to take Lance away from Keith. Each enemy— _alien_ that approached them was suspect, and every one of them drove Lance farther and farther away. Why didn’t Lance see what Keith saw? It frustrated him, that Lance would believe strangers over his teammate and friend.

_Were_ they friends? Keith had thought (hoped) they were, before this mess. Their time in the prison hadn’t exactly constituted a bonding moment, but it was in times like these that they should be depending on each other. Keith depended on Lance. Why wouldn’t Lance do the same? He felt like Lance was sand slipping through his fingers.

Keith stared at his fellow Paladin from across the mess hall, unseen, as he thought hard on this—as he had several times before. Lance shone with the smile on his face (though not as brightly as before they were captured). Keith loved that smile. He wished he could put it on Lance’s face himself, but back then, he was alright as long as Lance was happy. Now was an entirely different story. That beautiful smile was directed at this new alien friend of Lance’s, Milmax. Keith didn’t trust them. They were too deceptively strong and too jovial to not be hiding something. The way they kept looking around shiftily when Lance wasn’t paying attention wasn’t helping their case either. They were dangerous. He needed to get Lance away from them. Milmax hadn’t earned that smile. Only their team—only _Keith_ truly deserved that privilege.

He didn’t realize he was growling until a nearby alien squeaked at him. He punched a wall as he turned and left.

Keith _needed_ to take Lance away from this place. The universe needed Voltron, and Keith needed Lance. He would lose him if they stayed for much longer.

As he neared his and Lance’s cell, a screaming alien caught his eye. It was being dragged along the floor by some guards as it yelled desperately, “I didn’t do it! I didn’t _mean_ to! H-he was asking for it!” It had blood dripping from its mouth and claws. They were headed towards solitary confinement.

The sight inspired something in Keith. An idea he hadn’t considered before. He realized they’d have to crack a few eggs to get out of this prison. No holds barred. Keith began to plan.

 

Later, when Lance came back from his meal time with Milmax, he gave another weak excuse for his absence (“Ha, sorry, one of the guards thought I was being _‘suspicious_ ,’” he used air quotes, “and held me up.”), but Keith let it slide with a smile that seemed to throw Lance off. He spent most of the night training, letting Lance sleep on his own for the night, though slightly reluctantly.

It didn’t matter. He and Lance would have all the time in the universe when they escaped… Keith sighed wistfully.

 

* * *

 

"Lance, wake up."

Lance opened his eyes and looked beside him at Keith, who, ignoring the bags under his eyes and the split lip from the fight a few days ago, looked in peak condition. In fact, he almost seemed like he was vibrating with energy. Lance was sure he looked the opposite, with matching eye bags and a sickly pallor contrasting with the angry red swelling on his still broken elbow. He tried not to be irritated about it, because it would just make him more tired.

"I wasn't sleeping."

Keith scoffed. "Looked like it to me. You were even drooling."

Lance grumbled and wiped his mouth. "Shut up, I was just zoning out.” The comment was so typical Keith that it gave him emotional whiplash. “What d'you want?"

"I have a plan to get us out of here." Lance didn't like the face Keith was pulling. His eyes were sparkling with his determination, and he had a very dangerous looking smirk.

"Yeah, I've heard _that_ before, pal, and it just ended up with me getting a giant headache." That was putting it lightly. Lance was left with a concussion from a nasty fall, which distracted Keith just long enough for him to be restrained. The headaches lasted for days, and sometimes they were so bad he couldn't sleep. He never told Keith. The way he acted with his elbow was bad enough.

"I mean it this time. It’s foolproof." The certainty in his voice sparked a little bit of unwanted hope in Lance's chest.

"Oh yeah? What have you got then, big shot?"

"I'm going to kill someone."

The hope died out in an instant, and the way he jerked back in shock brought on a wave of dizziness. The rapid beating in his heart almost hurt. The tone of Keith’s voice sounded that by ‘someone,’ he hadn’t meant a guard. He shouldn’t still be smiling like that when talking about killing people. Keith either didn't notice or didn't care about the way Lance stared back at him horrified, and continued, "When they take me to solitary confinement, I'll take out the guard there and take his weapon and ID. Then I'll come get you, and we can steal a ship and fly out of here."

The worst part about it was that the plan was solid. The only way to be taken to solitary confinement was homicide, and the rooms were only guarded by one soldier at any one time. Keith's reflexes and skill in close quarters combat hadn't dulled during their time here (seemed to only get sharper from learning against other inmates, in fact), and he was experienced enough in stealth to make it to the cells and lead Lance to the hangar. The only hiccup was guard rotations; but the two of them had learned those well from Shiro. It would take precision, but Keith was right. It was foolproof.

It made Lance sick that he was considering it. Even worse that Keith seemed completely _unfazed_ at the idea of killing a fellow inmate. Most of them hadn't done anything wrong; they were fighting the Galra, or were just at the wrong place at the wrong time.

It was a sound plan, but... "Keith, I...I-I don't think we should do that."

"What? Why not?" Keith looked indignant, annoyed that Lance doubted him. It would've been innocent if they were discussing anything else.

"You're talking about _murder_ here! These people are innocent!" Lance hissed at him. To his surprise, Keith winced. Lance couldn’t tell if it was the reminder he was planning to break the Paladin Code or just that Lance was scolding him. But Keith quickly steeled himself again.

"We're the paladins of Voltron, Lance. We have to get out of here, or we can't save all these ' _innocent people_ ,’" he hissed, throwing Lance's words back at him.

"We don't have to kill people to get out. If we can just hold out until Allura and everyone finds us—"

"We have no idea when they will. It could take _months_. Months of you being injured, months of them not being able to form Voltron. Something could happen to you, or them, while we're here sitting and waiting around in this rotten prison!" Lance jumped when Keith slammed the wall between them with his fist. Unlike Lance, he didn't bother to restrain his volume. "I'm _not_ going to let anything happen to y—!" Lance slapped a hand over Keith's mouth to keep him quiet.

"Keith, you have _got_ to calm down. They still don't know who we are yet, and neither of us want them to find out." After a moment with no reply but a fiery glare, Lance let his hand drop and ran it through his hair instead. "Listen, we've been here for who knows how long. I know you're feeling a little stir crazy—" that was an understatement, "—but we can't just _kill_ people because we want to escape."

Keith huffed. "You keep saying that. There’s no 'we’ here."

"Huh?"

"You aren't killing anyone, Lance. _I_ am. You don’t have to worry about it."

Lance hesitated for a moment at the twisted comfort Keith was trying to give him. It would have been…oddly touching, under different circumstances. But he set that aside. There were more important things to think about. Like how Keith still didn't care, still wanted to murder someone to get them out of here.

Lance put a hand on Keith's shoulder, "Just by agreeing I'd be an accomplice. It'd still be my fault."

Keith was quiet at that. In fact, his whole posture relaxed. He leaned back against the wall.

"Okay."

"Okay." Lance let himself slump back too. He shut his eyes and sighed. He should be glad he stopped Keith, but all he felt was tired. He ignored how Keith shuffled closer so their sides were touching.

 

* * *

 

He woke up to an empty cell and alarms blaring in his ears.

"Someone catch #4434 already!" _Keith_. "He's killed two other prisoners and a guard!"

Keith had said someone. Some _one_. Three people wasn't just _someone_ ! Lance jerked to his feet, blood filling with adrenaline, and ran outside the door. Eyes darting around, he spotted someone thrown haphazardly to the floor, bruised, bleeding pinkish red in several places, and head and arm turned at impossible angles. Lance almost didn’t recognize them at first, deflated as they were, but it was Milmax. His _friend_. Lance’s only friend in this miserable place. “ _Stay away from them_ ,” Keith had said. Lance wished he’d listened.

Farther down the hall was the alien that had offered her help with his elbow, Daila. Her head was bashed in leaking dark navy, and her neck broken. Lance felt like his legs would give way when he saw her.

Most of the other prisoners were huddled in their cells, most likely from fear. They saw what happened, while Lance had just slept through it. He clenched his fists. _If only he'd woken up when Keith was about to leave_...!

Before Lance could bring himself to move, do _something_ , he heard a shriek from the end of the hall. The reptilian alien that had threatened them before was running around the corner, or attempting to with what looked like a broken leg. Soon after, Keith turned around the same corner, not running, but stalking like a predator. He hadn’t noticed Lance.

Lance opened his mouth to yell at Keith, to stop him, but nothing came out. He couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat.

Keith finally caught up to the alien, and leapt at him. Lance watched, paralyzed, as Keith sat on top of the alien and punched him over and over, dull yellow blood splattered on his already (pinkish-red and dark navy) blood covered arms. The grin on his face shook Lance to his core. Eventually the alien was quiet, unmoving, dead. But Keith didn’t stop.

This was too much. Keith was already headed for solitary confinement. He was three murders ago. Lance knew Keith had changed into something dangerous, but he didn’t realize how monstrous he’d become.

It was much too late when the guards found Keith. They pulled him up by the arms and cuffed him. He was then pushed towards solitary confinement. He seemed to notice Lance was there at last, that Lance had seen it all. He caught Lance's eye and _smiled_. It was that cocky smile he always wore when he beat Lance in a race or gave him a particularly snappy comeback.

Keith lied to Lance. He'd gone through with the plan anyway. It hit him that Keith did it to absolve Lance of his guilt and save them at the same time. The thought didn't make him feel any better. He saw Keith look surprised, then concerned as he was turned around a corner and left his sight. A moment later, Lance realized it was because he had started crying.

 

It took all Lance had to keep himself from from letting his nausea get the better of him while he waited until lights out. He spent the entire day in his cell—he had foregone meal time; he didn’t want to face all the other prisoners with the blood on his hands—hoping beyond hope that this was all just a terrible nightmare. But he wasn’t that naïve. At the very least, he told himself, they could get back to their friends, and get back to saving the universe as Voltron, get back to their normal life. It didn’t make him feel better though. He doubted anything could go back to normal after this, for him or Keith. For their team. He wondered if they could form Voltron ever again.

By the time Keith had come to get him, he’d run out of tears. He couldn’t look at Keith when he arrived. When he unlocked the door, he pulled Lance into a brief one-sided hug, then led him to the hangar by the hand. The blood on Keith’s unwashed hand left smudges on Lance’s.

Keith killed two more guards on the way, opting to use the bayonet instead of shooting them. It was unnecessarily messy, and purple Galran blood was added to the rainbow of colors covering him. Lance thought he caught that small but manic grin he’d seen earlier on his face. He tried to put that image in the box in the back of his head, and suppress his emotions for as long as he could as they searched for a ship to take.

 

After escaping the prison vessel’s fire and speeding out of its range, Keith set the ship on autopilot towards the nearest non-Galra controlled space station he knew of. He then turned to Lance, who sat on the armrest of the seat for lack of space. Lance glanced at the blood still crusted on Keith’s arms, then the smears on his own hand. He tried to wipe them off on his pant leg. Then he stared out the front display, ignoring Keith’s burning gaze.

“Lance, I—”

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shut up.”

“I was trying to save you, us, I couldn’t—”

“What part of ‘shut up’ do you not understand?” Lance finally looked at Keith and tried not to budge at the broken-hearted look on his face. Why was he more upset about Lance being angry at him than _murdering innocents_?

“I just…”

Lance sighed and looked away again, clenching his fists. It didn’t matter what Keith said. They died because of _him_.

“I cared more about you than any of them.”

He didn’t want to hear this.

“If something happened to you, I couldn’t… I _needed_ to get you—...”

Why didn’t it sound like he was talking about the good of Voltron anymore?

“You needed to get your elbow fixed. And I know you tried to act like you didn’t get a concussion.” Lance winced. “And you kept talking about how much pain you were in, and you...you were just so... _weak_ , I couldn’t just let you stay there—”

“I could’ve handled it! I-I was only acting like that to keep you from hurting people!” he snapped back, pride flaring weakly. It had been a terrible mistake. “We didn’t have to resort to this! No one had to die!”

“Yes, they _did_! It the only way to get you out!” Keith’s words were coming out rapidly and loudly, like a dam had broken. “Don’t you get it? I was trying to _protect_ you! I couldn’t let anything else happen to you, and if I had to kill them all to do it, then I’d do it!” Lance didn’t fight the arms Keith slid around his waist. He doubted he could push him off anyway, if he even tried. Softer, Keith said, “I don’t regret it. But I do regret making you feel like you can’t trust me. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’ll fix this.”

It wasn’t going to go away like it was nothing. There are some things you can’t un-know about a person, and now he knew that Keith would kill innocent people for him. This violent, obsessive Keith wouldn’t fit in that box. He couldn’t just forget it, as much as he wished to. He missed the old Keith, despite how much they bickered and complained about each other. The fire to his ice. His friend, underneath it all. Then he wondered if _this_ was the real Keith. If _this_ was the Keith that always bubbled just under the surface, only kept in check until now. The despair at the thought weighed down on his stomach.

“Lance?” He didn’t answer. Keith huffed. “You’re gonna have to stop ignoring me eventually.”

When it became apparent that “eventually” wasn’t going to be any time soon, Keith’s grip on Lance’s waist tightened and he pulled him closer, burying his face in Lance’s collar. Lance was stiff in his arms. The only sound in the cabin was soft beeps from the dashboard and their breathing.

Keith murmured, “I love you,” into Lance’s neck and his heart nearly stopped. “You’re everything to me, Lance, I _can’t_ lose you… Please say something...”

Lance refused to reply at first, but Keith fingers began to dig into his skin and slightly tear the threadbare prison wear, prompting an answer from him. “Y-you’ve got a messed up way of showing it. Most people would give someone they liked flowers or something, not—” Milmax and Daila’s battered bodies flashed through his mind, “—assault and kill their _friends_.”

“But you...you’re _mi_ —” Keith cut himself off with a short, frustrated groan. “We couldn’t get close to them. They would’ve betrayed us.” He pulled Lance impossibly closer. “Can we stop talking about them? How do _you_ feel about _me_?”

Lance had no idea how to reply to that. Those were feelings he definitely didn’t want to _think_ about, let alone talk about. He knew any answer he gave Keith would end badly. Keith was unhinged; accepting his confession could lead the two of them down a very dangerous, unhealthy path. But rejecting him was an equally terrifying thought. What did love even mean to Keith? Would he turn his fury on Lance if he said no? Would Keith even _let_ him say no? Lance was completely out of his depth. But he had to say something, and soon, because Keith was looking at him now, face untucked from Lance’s neck, and every tense second Lance didn’t speak made him look less and less composed.

Blinking away tears, Lance takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, and finally answers.

**Author's Note:**

> so how about that ending, lol


End file.
